Asylum
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: Setting: Briarwood Mental Health Center. Objective: Uncover the shady practices occurring there. Problem: Parker finds herself confronting her own demons, instead.  Nate/Parker
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Asylum

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Leverage or its characters and I make no profit from this. It's just for fun.

**Spoilers:** None.

**Pairing:** Nate/Parker (if you don't know that by now, you haven't been paying attention!)

**Author's note:** I didn't think I'd post another story so soon, but...here I am. And with an actual, semi-complicated con! I don't know how it will turn out…hopefully alright!

**Special thanks to:** **housefan87** for my awesome background. **Erin** for reading these and otherwise being my best friend.** Against the Evening Sky** and **agenttofutti **(make an account so I can message you, already!) for loving N/P as much as I do. **Leveragefan3621** for writing other N/P stories. And all readers & reviewers.

**Asylum:** 1. An institution for the care of people, especially those with physical or mental impairments, who require organized supervision or assistance.

2. A place offering protection and safety from danger or hardship; a shelter; a sanctuary.

**XXXXXX**

Parker sat quietly and watched, as she had been for the past twenty minutes, because that was what they had asked her to do.

"I love my wife very much, but lately her past…issues have started to come up again," Eliot glanced at her. "I knew we had to intervene before things got much worse. I've heard only the best about your clinic, Dr. Andrews."

Dr. Wilhelm Andrews steepled his fingers together, his face showing nothing but sympathy for the plight of the young couple before him. "Mental illness is indeed an awful thing, Mr. Haywood."

Eliot nodded in agreement. "Please, call me Tom."

"Tom. Since you've heard about us, then you know that we are not the choice of those looking for an…economical placement. We provide the best quality care and environment for our patients."

"Cost isn't a problem," Eliot assured him. "I only want the best for my wife."

"I'm sure you do, and you'll find it here. We can arrange for your wife to be admitted immediately. Anna?"

Parker didn't immediately reply, unaccustomed to the name. Eliot nudged her with his foot and she snapped to attention. "Yes?"

"You have nothing to worry about, Anna," Andrews smiled at her. "We'll have you better and out of here in no time."

"Does that mean I can leave now?" She asked, actually hoping the man behind the desk might agree.

He only smiled indulgently. "Your intake interview will start after you've settled into your room. Your husband can accompany you. I'll have a nurse help you get accommodated." He led them out of his office and flagged down a passing nurse. "Theresa, please help Mrs. Anna Haywood settle into one of our rooms."

"You go on ahead, honey," Eliot told her. "I'll be right along in a minute."

Parker inwardly seethed but only nodded passively. Already she was contemplating ways to get back at him for this – ways to get back at all of them. Because even though she'd agreed to it, she still hated it, and they damn well knew it.

Eliot watched the nurse lead her away with no small amount of worry. He'd been unsure about this one, but their desire to take this job had outweighed any concerns they'd had.

"Dr. Andrews, again I want to say that I love my wife more than anything, but my business is quite complicated. The other day, when I invited some clients over for dinner, her erratic behavior was cause for much alarm. I managed to play it off by telling them she'd had too much drink, but I simply cannot allow situations like that to jeopardize my job. Do you understand?"

Dr. Andrews nodded. "Perfectly clear, Tom. Thought I must warn you that we cannot perform miracles. We use the most advanced methods including drugs, therapy, and other treatments but sometimes mental illness simply cannot be cured. In the worst cases, it can sometimes not even be controlled. Your wife may have to stay here for a significant amount of time."

Eliot ran a hand through his hair; he was having no trouble feigning true distress. "I understand she may have to stay here for a long time, possibly permanently. I assure you, if that is the case, I will ensure that my donations far exceed the cost of her care."

Dr. Andrews, having heard exactly what he wanted to hear, shook his head. "Don't worry about any of that just yet, Tom. That would be a last resort and I haven't even met with your wife one-on-one yet. Why don't you go help her settle in? The nurse I just spoke to, Theresa, will also give you more detailed information on the treatment programs we offer."

"Thank you, Doctor." Eliot nodded, trying to suppress the shudder he felt merely being in Andrews' presence. He had the sudden, strong urge to go get Parker and leave with her – get her as far away from this place as possible. But he ignored it, reminding himself that any discomfort they suffered would be worth it in the end.

At least he prayed that was the case.

XXXXXX

Parker followed the nurse to what would be her room for an indeterminate amount of time.

"Here you go, dear," Theresa told her. "Dr. Andrews will be bringing you in for an intake evaluation soon." With that, the woman left the room. It was as if she didn't want Parker to ask her any questions, so she fled as soon as possible.

But Parker had no questions – not for Nurse Theresa anyway. Her questions were more for Nate and Eliot. They'd told her she'd be able to have a private room, and yet the one the nurse had brought her to had a second bed. The thought of sharing her room with another patient did not sit well with her.

And it got even worse when that patient showed up.

"Could you refrain from infringing upon my personal space?" The woman snapped irritably, as Parker looked around to ensure to herself that she hadn't done any such thing.

"Sorry…?" Parker shrugged, phrasing it as a question even though she had no real interest in who the woman was.

"I'm Lydia. Let me guess, you're new. You have that look." Lydia's disdainful glance showed that she was none too impressed with her roommate. Well, the feeling was mutual.

"What look?" Parker asked, irritated. She threw her bag on the bed. She knew it had already been searched, probably while they were speaking with Dr. Andrews, because her cell phone was missing. No contact with the outside world allowed, then?

"That look like you hope this place might do you some good." Lydia lounged on her own bed, twirling her dark hair around one finger and watching Parker too intensely. "It'll disappear soon."

Parker didn't know what to make of that statement, except it sounded vaguely ominous. Eliot appeared in the doorway before she could dwell on it for too long. He called her name, and again she didn't respond right away. She was all too aware of Lydia watching them closely.

"Do you mind?" Parker asked sharply, motioning for Lydia to leave.

The other woman shrugged, but left, sizing up Eliot on her way out.

"They took my phone," Parker hissed as soon as Lydia had gone, shutting the door behind her.

Eliot sighed, "Andrews told me they confiscated it. It's a no communication policy, they want you free of all distractions, at least while you're first here."

"Eliot!" Only the way she felt now told her that she hadn't truly been on edge before. "Don't you think that's a bit suspicious? And how am I supposed to get in touch with anyone."

Eliot frowned at Parker's uncharacteristic behavior. They'd been in Briarwood for less than 2 hours and already she was acting almost…helpless. It didn't bode well for their con – or her – if she didn't pull herself together. "Parker, relax. You know we went over this already and we have plans for everything."

"Right, you're right." She mindlessly went about unpacking her suitcase. "I don't know why you made me bring so many clothes. As if I'm going to be here that long."

Eliot watched her move from the suitcase, to the bureau, and back again, almost automatically. "It's going to be fine, remember –"

A knock on the door silenced him as their eyes met and he nodded before calling for the person to enter. It was Andrews. "Sorry to interrupt you two so soon, but it's getting late Anna, and I want to complete the intake process before 6:30 so you don't miss dinner."

Parker nodded in acquiescence, dropping the rest of her clothes to sort through later. Tonight. When she had to sleep here.

She watched apprehensively as Andrews and Eliot talked quietly near the doorway for a few moments before Andrews turned to her. "Are you ready? I'll give you a moment to say goodbye, I'll be right outside." He left the room and Eliot and Parker faced each other, their motions tinged with awkwardness for the first time that day.

"I guess this is it – I won't be allowed to come back until visiting day next week. You know what to do between now and then."

She forced herself to smile and more or less pretend she was fine. Everything was fine with this situation, which really could not have been worse. "I know, I'll see you in a few days."

She thought he might hug her, but he simply patted her on the shoulder and walked her out to Dr. Andrews. "Everything alright?" The older doctor asked, with only kindness in his voice, which irritated her so much she wanted to punch him.

"We're good," Eliot said quickly. "Bye honey, I love you. Remember, do what the doctors say. Everyone's here to help you." He watched her carefully, then added, "Remember you're not alone here."

She forced herself to smile again before following Andrews as he led her to complete the intake process. She saw no point in telling Eliot that she was alone everywhere.

He'd never understand it.

**XXXXXX**

TBC - as long as I'm alive, I'll never leave a story unfinished. All thoughts welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**Author's note: ** I LOVE all reviewers and all readers! And to the reviewer who anonymously posted a copy of another person's review, I appreciate the sentiment but I'd love to hear what people think in their own words =)

*I try to keep them in character, but I'm not perfect, some OOC-ness may creep in - especially considering my preferred pairing is N/P.

**XXXXXX**

The next morning, Parker awoke in sheer amazement at the fact that her roommate hadn't killed her overnight. They hadn't spoken much more after their brief exchange the night before, but Parker knew enough to tell when someone disliked her. A quick glance to her right told her that Lydia had been up for awhile. Her bed was empty, and made.

It had taken two hours the night before to finish both the intake process and her interminable session with Dr. Andrews. The man seemed mainly interested in her relationship with her 'husband' and she'd had to make up dozens of answers on the spot or else give the entire thing away. She hoped he wasn't planning to ask Eliot the same questions, or else they'd be in serious trouble. Though she couldn't think of any real reason why he would, except for her ever-constant paranoia.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, as she sat alone the entire time, receiving mainly curious looks from other women in the dining room. In return, she had made it clear that she didn't want anyone to sit near her. After a few bites of her meal (and it irked her that pot roast was the best this incredibly expensive place could do) she'd thrown it out and gone to bed.

She felt it closing in on her as sure as the walls of the building – the sense of being completely alone. Last evening it hadn't been so bad, but after a full night spent at Briarwood, it was becoming almost suffocating. She knew she was supposed to settle in for a few days before getting close to Delia, but she didn't think she could wait that long. She would go crazy for real.

She'd objected to playing this role, more than she did to anything they ever undertook before. She didn't object to their goal, she simply didn't want to play this part. Her suggestion that Sophie check into Briarwood instead had been met with unanimous disapproval.

_You're perfect for this, Parker_, Sophie had said. _Just remember to act crazy…but not too crazy_. What the hell did _that _mean?

She knew she had to get close to Delia Chase, a woman committed to Briarwood six months before. It was her sister Eleanor who had approached them. Eleanor believed Delia was being kept in the facility against her will, thanks mostly to Delia's husband Everett who had the kind of money that could keep all but the most morally upright people silenced.

And in Parker's experience, the kind of morally upright people who could resist that temptation were few and far between. Maybe one in a million or less. (And it was her damn good luck that she'd happened to be blessed with 4 of them in her life – not that she'd ever told them so).

To Parker's surprise, it had been Nate who initially questioned taking the case. It was risky and they had nothing to go on except Eleanor's assertions that her sister had never shown any signs of mental illness until she married her husband. As Nate had reminded them, the woman obviously would not want to believe her sister was becoming mentally unstable. What made it worse was that Delia herself never made any accusations about being held against her will. Eleanor was simply going on her sister's changed behavior, and some suspect references in letters she'd received from her since she'd entered Briarwood.

And what could possibly be the motive for locking up your wife? After all, as Eliot told them with only the faintest hint of sarcasm, it was much easier and cheaper to kill your wife as opposed to having her sent away. Eleanor guessed that it had something to do with Everett's shady business dealings. She suspected her sister had discovered something incriminating, and where Everett didn't want to risk killing her and being caught, he felt it better to send her away and pay to keep her there. It also had the added bonus of ensuring that if Delia ever spoke out against her husband, he could point to her current residence as proof of the unreliability of her words.

Parker could bitterly tell them (though she refused to elaborate) that Eleanor's reasoning made perfect sense. She convinced Hardison to do some research on the center's director and primary psychiatrist, Dr. Wilhelm Andrews. Though most accounts had him as a respected psychiatrist, he had two complaints for misconduct brought against him in the past three years, both quickly and quietly settled out of court. Hardison made it a point to tell them (over and over again, until she'd kicked him in the shin) that if it weren't for his superior research skills, they never would have found record of the cases.

Since complaints were par for the course for _any _doctor, Nate had still wanted to pass. Except Parker couldn't let it go. Maybe it was Eleanor's quiet insistence that something was wrong at Briarwood, or perhaps it was the woman's determination that if they wouldn't help her, she would keep looking until someone would. Or maybe it was simply a sickening feeling Parker had that there was more going on at Briarwood than there seemed.

It led her to do something she rarely did, which was make a personal appeal to take the case. She'd never thought that doing so would lead to her ending up as a patient at the facility herself. Unfortunately, that had been Nate's condition. She knew it was based on her past experience with institutions – a series of unfortunate events she wouldn't discuss with anyone, _ever_, but she knew how Nate had learned about their existence and was going to deal with Hardison accordingly, once she got out of here. (Preferably in a way that involved pain and a 100 foot drop from a building – _maybe _if he were lucky she'd put a harness on him first).

After Nate had asked her to go undercover at Briarwood, she'd almost backed out, except that after she'd made her case, Hardison, Eliot, and Sophie were suddenly as eager to do this job as she'd initially been. And as a result, she had unhappily agreed to become a patient, and she already regretted it.

She had to admit that it was disconcerting that after so many years alone, she found the worst part of Briarwood was being cut off from everyone. What had they _done _to her? It was distressingly close to the point that she found herself relying on them! She should be in her element, relaxing at Briarwood and enjoying her newfound solitude, but instead…

She was pacing and staring at walls and wondering every 5 minutes what one or another of them was doing. And it had been less than a day!

Since Eliot hadn't procured her a replacement cell phone last night, and since he now got to go lounge around for a week doing nothing (or so she darkly imagined to herself), she had to go steal back her own.

Security at Briarwood was laughable – or maybe it just seemed that way after some of the places she'd been in. She easily made her way to the wing where all the doctor's offices were located. Dr. Andrews had the largest one, and flanking that were a handful of other offices for both permanent psychiatrists and visiting ones.

She knocked on Andrews' door and when no one answered she quickly picked the lock and slipped inside. She rummaged through his drawers and found a bottle of scotch (expected), an address book – filled with women's names and numbers (admirable) – and a handgun (scary, but exciting). Maybe she had to reevaluate her opinion of him…she shook herself out of her thoughts and kept looking until she found her phone in another drawer.

"Do you really want to get caught in Andrews' office on your first day here?" Nate asked from the doorway, causing her to drop the phone back into the drawer.

"Nate! I was just going to…call you," she said brightly, following him out of the office. He shut the door behind them, making sure it was locked.

"Sure you were. What are you doing?"

"I wanted to stay in touch. See how things were since I've been away for so long."

"It's been less than 24 hours," he reminded her.

"A lot can happen in a day," she said, feeling unaccountably cheerful. Not that she'd ever tell him that his presence was sort of comforting. She'd known he was coming, but the reality was a relief, at least to know she wasn't stranded at Briarwood with Andrews –

And as if the very thought had conjured him, Andrews appeared around the corner. "Anna, what are you doing down this way?" He looked from her to Nate. "I see you've met Dr. Matthews?" He was trying hard for casual but Parker caught the underlying sternness in his questions.

When she didn't answer, Nate stepped forward. "We were just becoming acquainted. I think Mrs. Haywood was lost on her way to the rec room. You said you wanted to join the 3 PM bingo game, right?"

"No," Parker said automatically, but at Nate's stern glance she hedged, "I was under the impression it was…charades."

"What a great idea," Dr. Andrews said. "We'll have to incorporate that into our game rotation." Parker inwardly rolled her eyes at this, as Andrews continued, "The rec room is down this hallway, take a right and follow that hallway all the way down, take a left at the end, and continue straight, you can't miss it. I'll find you later with an appointment schedule for you, alright?"

"Right." She waited a minute and when neither of them addressed her again she reluctantly headed off to join the bingo game against her will. This place was worse than she'd thought it would be.

XXXXXX

Hardison had worked hard to make it happen, despite, he'd said with no small amount of irritation, how they all thought it was so easy to manipulate events in such a way as to convince a highly discerning psychiatrist who only worked with the best people in the field to hire a man he'd never met. It involved creating an immediate vacancy on his staff (alerting ICE that the visiting German psychiatrist at his facility wasn't technically a U.S. citizen and hadn't bothered to apply for a work visa) and positioning Nate as the "obvious" choice for replacement.

For that, Hardison had Nate assume the identity of a published psychiatrist who'd died eight years earlier. Famous enough that Andrews would vaguely place the name, but not so much that he'd have been aware of the death (which thankfully hadn't been highly publicized). Nevertheless, Hardison had to eliminate all references to Dr. Lachlan Matthews' death and create a variety of fake websites showing Nate as (the very much alive) Lachlan Matthews.

In essence, he'd earned his money on this one, as he told them at least a dozen times (prompting Sophie to ask where exactly he thought they'd be getting money on this job). Which only made him sulk that if they could make resumes for the things they did, establishing Nate as Lachlan Matthews would be at the top of his list.

When Andrews found Parker in the rec room two hours – and 8 bingo games – later (she'd won two of them and decided maybe it was sort of, kind of, not exactly a terrible game, if you were winning that was), he handed her an appointment list. Her 'regular' psychiatrist would be Dr. Lachlan Matthews. Of course. She wondered how it was possible to feel such immense relief and annoyance at the same time.

At least the relief outweighed the annoyance, and it gave her a chance to talk to Nate about her progress without arousing suspicion.

"I'm sorry I can't meet with you regularly myself," Andrews had apologized. "But I'm sure you'll feel comfortable with Dr. Matthews. He has a distinguished background and he's among the best at what he does. You remember, I assured both you and your husband I only hire the very best."

Parker wasn't sure how to respond to that, except that she had the overwhelming urge to inform him that the 'very best' he was referring to was a former insurance investigator whose current chosen profession could only be described as con artist.

Self-preservation kept her silent. That and the need she had to find out if Eleanor's claims about the facility were true. She could only do that so long as she remained a patient (and, to a lesser extent, Nate remained a doctor).

"Remember, you can always make an appointment with me if you need to discuss anything, and I'll be checking in with you weekly," Andrews told her. "I personally oversee the treatment of every patient at this facility. You don't need to worry."

Once again, self-preservation kept her from telling him that was exactly what she worried about.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – all thoughts welcome & encouragement inspires me to write faster!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**Author's note: ** Thanks to readers & all reviewers - it's great to get feedback while I'm still in the process of writing. This is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope others enjoy as well.

*I try to keep them in character, but I'm not perfect, some OOC-ness may creep in – especially considering my preferred pairing is N/P.

**XXXXXX**

"I'm here for my one o'clock appointment," Parker told Nate, slamming the door to his office behind her. It was their third since she'd been at Briarwood. It had been nearly a week, and she couldn't believe that when she thought about it. It felt more like a month. The days blended together into one never-ending routine of appointments and bingo games and group activities, and she hated each one more than the last.

She looked around his office, really taking it in for the first time. She'd known it was extravagant, but today that really infuriated her for some reason. Maybe it was the sunny yellow walls or the fact that she'd lost four games of charades in a row (especially aggravating since they'd added that game because of _her_ offhand remark to Andrews) or because Nate looked impeccable in his professional attire while she was dressed in some sort of pink jumpsuit she'd had to borrow from Lydia since all her clothes were being washed (at least they didn't make patients wear gowns, she would have had to jump off the roof for real.)

"My, Parker, don't you look…pastel today."

Oh no he didn't. She let him know with one look just how little she appreciated that remark.

He sobered and tried to look professional. "Something bothering you, Parker?" He asked.

"I don't believe this, did he give you the best office he had?" It was twice the size of her and Lydia's room and had views overlooking the lake that lay behind Briarwood. Beyond that was the Montana skyline; it was breathtaking at sunset (her room faced the east – of course).

Nate shrugged from behind the desk as Parker stood at the windows. "Andrews gave me the office of the recently departed Dr. Lukas Wagner. No doubt back in Germany by now, thanks to Hardison."

"I can't believe you get this and I get a roommate who asks me how light of a sleeper I am. Every night. Know what that means, Nate? It means she's trying to determine what's going to wake me up. Do you know how unsettling that is?"

"Right, Lydia Friel. I met her a few days ago," he pointedly ignored her reservations about the woman. "She's charming."

"You think this is funny?" She glared. "Keep laughing, see what happens. And where are you staying anyways?"

"Andrews set me up in the guest house." Nate waved in its general direction, and she knew he was referring to another building a few hundred yards away. Briarwood was more of a complex than anything else. The 'guest house' to which he was referring was a private building where Andrews afforded certain staff living quarters, especially those who were only visiting Briarwood. "It's wonderful, like being in a luxury hotel."

Parker leaned over the desk. "I hate you. Remember how I was promised a private room? We're paying more than enough for this place, I think he could afford it."

Nate shook his head. "He eliminated private rooms a year ago, it's now Briarwood's policy that all guests have roommates. It's safer, he claims." At her skeptical glance, he added, "Andrews is a highly respected psychiatrist, Parker. I think he knows what he's talking about."

"Except when it comes to his own staff. He doesn't seem to realize what's going on right in front of him," she reminded him.

"I think that's due more to Hardison's superiority than any fault of Andrews'. Don't tell Hardison I said that."

"More like Andrews wants to make more money by accepting more patients, which means he has to put two in each room."

Nate nodded. "That explanation is as reasonable as any other."

Parker wasn't really listening to him as she quietly seethed. He had it made and simply had to sit back while she did all the work. "I still don't believe this. You get the nice office, living quarters, prestige, and freedom. And you're getting paid for it! What do I get? A roommate who I half think wants to kill me and the daily reminder that I'm not fit to live outside this building."

Nate skimmed through a folder from his desk. "Luckily for you, Hardison didn't give you anything too debilitating. Mild depression, possible hints of bipolar disorder when you were younger. A few breakdowns, with your most recent being last week when your husband invited over three prominent guests for dinner."

Parker grabbed the file from him to read. "I guess I should be thankful he didn't throw something completely bizarre in here." She narrowed her eyes when she saw handwritten notes that described her living situation when she'd been ten. _Real _notes. "This is certainly detailed."

"Have you ever known Hardison to be anything other than thorough?" He tried to take the folder back but she held it out of reach.

"I have a right to my own medical records, Dr. Matthews," she said angrily.

"Hostility. That's definitely going in your file."

She threw it back at him, feeling strangely triumphant when papers went all over his desk and he had to pick them up. "Nate, haven't you learned by now not to piss off a woman who can break into any room where you're sleeping?"

He paused, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "I feel I should put that in your file, too. Threats against your primary psychiatrist."

"Try it," she challenged.

He didn't respond, simply looked at her in that awful way he had that seemed to go right through her, finding the one aspect of any situation that was most important. She ignored him and settled into the chair in front of his desk. "Well…what am I here for? Start with the therapy."

"I don't think I need to remind you that I'm not a real psychiatrist, yet it seems that I _do _have to say that every time we have an appointment." Nate told her, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal his exasperation.

Parker thought about making a sharp comeback, but instead found herself being surprisingly honest. "You're already doing better than any I've ever had."

He had nothing to say to that, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, during which Parker had the increasingly uneasy feeling that he was somehow studying her and maybe beginning to comprehend why, exactly, she had so hated the idea of being a patient in Briarwood.

"Have you been making any progress with Delia?" He asked finally.

"A bit, I've tried to become friendly with her but she's extremely distant and hard to talk to. Every time I feel I'm getting somewhere, she suddenly shuts down. How am I supposed to deal with someone like that?"

"You mean someone like yourself?" He asked, to which she only glared at him and slid further down in her chair. "Parker, you need to _try_," he stressed.

She immediately became defensive at the implication she'd somehow not been doing her part. "What do you think I'm doing every single day? I mean, besides playing board games and trying to avoid Andrews at every turn – who, by the way, is practically stalking me. I'm trying to make friends with Delia, keep off the radar of all staff and patients in this place, and otherwise _survive_, Nate. You have it easy being a 'doctor' here, so don't start telling me how to do my job."

Nate saw that she was on a much more precarious edge than he'd realized. He thought, for the first time, that maybe her unhappiness stemmed from a much deeper reason than simply the current disparity in their situations. "Parker," he said slowly, "what is this about, really?"

"What is what about?" She asked, pretending not to know what he meant. They both knew that she knew exactly what he meant. All too well.

"Parker."

She couldn't look at him, not when he was trying to figure out what was going on. Not when he said things to her in that voice that told her he knew her. Because as hard as she'd tried to prevent it (with all of them), he _knew _her, and she couldn't undo that.

She leaned forward, staring at the floor. What was she supposed to tell him? What _could _she tell him? She should stay quiet, because nothing she said would matter. And yet…

"I know something's going on with you," Nate said quietly. "And you can tell me now or I can keep asking, and asking, and asking, until you get so frustrated that you walk away."

She glanced up with interest.

"In which case," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I would just follow you. Have you ever known me to give up, Parker? _Ever_?"

She mutely shook her head at that, one point she couldn't argue with him.

"Then tell me." He folded his hands on his desk, and she had a flashback to a psychiatrist she'd once had, a real one, in a different place and time. But this was so much different. "_Tell me_."

She thought for a moment, debating the pros and cons of revealing herself to him. She couldn't say which side won, but she found herself talking to him despite that. "Every once in awhile…it's like things get confused. I have strange thoughts sometimes," she kept her focus on the floor, because at least it was something steady; something that wouldn't disappear from under her. "Like…what if it's Anna and Dr. Matthews that are real and Parker and Nate who aren't? What would I do then?"

"You don't have to worry about that," he spoke from beside her, and she only then realized he'd come around the desk to kneel next to her. "Because it's never going to happen. Don't start doubting yourself because of where you are. This is just a _place_, Parker. It can't change you."

"You don't understand," she told him helplessly. How _could_ he? How could _anyone_ who hadn't lived the things she had lived?

"Maybe I don't understand. But Parker…" he waited until she reluctantly met his eyes. "I know who you are. I know the things of which you are capable. And they never cease to amaze me."

She felt her breathing hitch entirely against her will, because he'd never said anything like that to her before. Yet he spoke with such grave clarity that she knew he believed the words. What caused him to say them now? Was it because of where they were? Was it simply because he didn't want her to fall apart on him?

As if he read her thoughts, he went on, "I'm not trying to placate you. I'm not lying to you. It's not even that I'm only telling you the truth; it's that I'm telling you what I believe."

She swallowed, willing away every emotion that threatened to rise within her. "Thank you," she said quietly, finding it wholly inadequate. Yet she couldn't say more. It wasn't that she didn't want to; it was that she didn't know how.

She rose, forcing him to stand as well. She edged toward the door, needing to get away.

"I know this one has been tough for you, you can always talk to me about it, when you want to. If you want to."

She was nearly at the door when he spoke again.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words causing her to stop abruptly.

"What?" She turned to look at him.

"I'm not like the others," he clarified. Which, to her, clarified nothing at all.

"Huh?"

"Parker," he said wearily, as if aggrieved she needed him to explain something so simple. "I'm not going to disappear on you. I'm not a real psychiatrist, but I _am _here for you – for all of you. I won't disappear if you don't pay me –" he paused, seemingly frustrated at trying to articulate what he meant. "My investment in you is not to make money or only for what you can give to me. I care about you."

She held up her hand to indicate that he needn't go on. This was something else she'd known about him, but it didn't hurt to hear the words every once in awhile. And those words did touch her in a way she hadn't expected. She felt a sudden flood of – gratitude, yes it must be gratitude because it wasn't anything more than that.

Of course he always seemed to sense her weakness and now was no exception. He came to stand beside her, his hand on the doorknob. "I know you don't always think so, even after what all of us have been through together, but you have every one of us." She glanced up at him and he added, "Don't shut us out."

She cleared her throat. "Right. I won't," she reassured him.

He opened the door for her – and with a reluctance that had arisen from nowhere – he let her go.

XXXXXX

Family visiting day surprised her, because she'd completely forgotten about it until Lydia asked her if her husband was coming that day. She replied in the affirmative, only then recalling that she'd spoken to Eliot on the phone several days earlier. They hadn't been able to discuss anything of substance, since Andrews had been in the room at the time.

"Anna!" Eliot called, and she reminded herself silently over and over to call him Tom.

"Hi," she said, trying not to look too uncomfortable as he quickly hugged her. She was sure they didn't look like lovers reuniting, and though she was aware of Andrews at the front of the room, surreptitiously watching over them all, she figured he could write it off as lingering tension due to the fact that her husband had put her in a mental health facility.

"How are things going?" He asked, and she nodded to Delia sitting nearby in the rec room.

"Things are great," she said, adding stiffly as an afterthought, "honey."

Eliot bit back a sigh. "Why don't you just forget about trying to sound like we're married? You can't pull it off and it's better if you're slightly angry at me anyways for checking you into this place."

She thought, if this were real, she'd be more than _slightly _angry at him. "You try to sound loving when you've been here over a week," she crossed her arms and sighed, when someone entering the room caught her eye. Everett Chase. What the hell was he doing there? Eleanor had told them that he had visited his wife only twice since she'd been at Briarwood, and both of those visits were more than five months earlier.

At her sudden tenseness, Eliot casually glanced over to see what had alarmed her. He quickly spun back and leaned forward. "What's he doing here?"

"My thoughts exactly," Parker said quietly

"Well I guess this is a perfect opportunity to watch them and see how they interact," Eliot said optimistically. The two of them played a half-hearted game of cribbage while they both kept eyes on the miserable couple 15 feet away.

Nothing could be said for certain, except that Everett and Delia Chase were very unhappy together. Delia, in particular, seemed quite unnerved around her husband. A few times, she reached out as if to touch him, but then would remember herself and quickly pull her hand away.

"It lends support to what we thought," Eliot said about 20 minutes later, pitching his voice low, "but it doesn't prove anything." They both watched as Everett stared at his wife with a mixture of unhappiness and disappointment before getting up and leaving.

"I'm going to try," Parker told him, triumphantly laying down her hand which scored 24 and caused her to win the game. "She's vulnerable now, maybe I can make some headway."

Eliot muttered something about her cheating, but she ignored him as she made her way to where Delia sat alone and forlorn on a couch near the window.

"Hi," Parker said brightly.

Delia didn't answer, but didn't order her away; Parker took that as the nearest invitation she would get to sit next to her. She tried desperately to think of what she'd want to hear if she were in Delia's place – a task that was quite monumental. "I see your husband was just here…I hate family visiting days, myself."

Delia perked up at that. "Me too," she said softly, glancing toward the doorway as if to ensure her husband had truly left.

"My husband over there, Tom?" Parker nodded toward where Eliot was talking with her 'psychiatrist' Nate. "He's overbearing and manipulative. To be honest…I'm glad I'm here because I don't have to deal with him at home anymore."

"I know what you mean," Delia said, warming up to the conversation. "My husband Everett…we used to have a great relationship. But then…he sent me here. I don't know how to talk to him anymore. I know I shouldn't, but I hate him for what he's done to me. Sending me here."

Parker waited for a few minutes, pretending to think. In reality, she simply watched Eliot and Nate conversing, wondering what they were saying, and if it were about her. Most likely. "I don't belong here," she turned to Delia with a piercing stare, willing her to understand. "I'm not crazy."

Delia stared out the window intently, though she could be focusing on nothing aside from trees and water: an essentially barren landscape. When she spoke, she didn't look at Parker – but it was enough. "I'm not crazy either, though I feel I should warn you…if your husband wants you here, you'll never get out."

Parker shut her eyes and willed herself to stay calm. She couldn't give anything away. "I believe you," she murmured, briefly touching the other woman's hand. "It's going to be alright."

Before Delia could reply, Parker got up and walked away. She knew she probably should have stayed to see if she could get anything else out of her, but she needed to escape that conversation as soon as possible.

She almost felt the weight of Nate and Eliot watching her as she left, and she couldn't explain anything, because despite what Nate had promised her earlier, she had the sinking feeling that whatever she said – whatever weakness she admitted – it would do nothing except let them down.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I love everyone reading and reviewing this. I can say it a million times and it won't be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**Author's note: ** Thanks to all reading & reviewing this.

*Believe me, I try to keep them in character, but OOC-ness may creep in, because this is an N/P story after all!

**XXXXXX**

Oh group therapy, how she hated it. She could only picture Sophie's disastrous attempts at moderating when she and Nate had entered a rehab facility two years earlier. She prayed this would go better. Not having Sophie around to interrogate Nate on his drinking was a definite step in the right direction.

"Anna, why don't you go first?" Nate said cheerfully. (Strike that. It seemed _any_ group he was part of would be torture.)

"I'd rather not go first," she said, trying to infuse as much irritation into her statement as possible.

He ignored her protest. "No one wants to go first, but I think you can help break the ice, since you're one of the newer patients. Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

"I'd rather not," she crossed her arms sullenly, purposely not looking at him for the glare she was sure she'd find.

"Still, give it a try."

"Fine," she huffed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. The five other women in the group watched with the typical interest and wariness afforded to a newcomer. "My name is Pa…pretty normal. Anna." She coughed to hide her discomfort. Two seconds in and she already almost screwed it up. She had no idea what to talk about.

"Go on," Nate encouraged and she had a sudden flash of what it would be like if this were real.

"I'm not crazy," she said abruptly.

"No one's crazy here," Nate assured her, as some of the other women nodded in agreement. "You're married, why don't you tell us a bit about your husband?" He prodded, and she remembered what she was supposed to say.

"Right, my husband Tom. He's…great." Her lack of enthusiasm was probably perceived as a veiled hint that her 'husband' was _not_ that great. At least it worked for what they were going for.

"I saw him when you came in a few days ago," a woman (Mary?) commented. "He seems like a nice guy." She sounded wistful, like maybe she hadn't known many of those.

Parker was amazed anyone cared. "Right, we met, then we fell in love. And got married. That's our story."

"He seems very supportive," Nate said carefully. Oh, right.

"Yeah he is, I suppose. At times he's a bit overwhelming. Controlling, sort of. Not in a bad way?" Parker shrugged. She was no actress. Sophie would have been better at getting the other women to think suspiciously of her 'husband.'

A few women nodded, understanding the type of man she was talking about. Delia Chase watched silently, but Parker knew she saw interest flicker across the woman's face.

"That's very good, Anna. Thank you for opening up to all of us. I know that, for many, it's often very hard to let others in." Nate said, and to her horror, he actually started clapping. The other women joined in, and Parker thought if she slunk down any further in her chair, she'd end up on the floor. Wait, then she could feign some sort of light-headedness and escape…

As if reading her thoughts, Nate smartly took the focus off her. "Courtney, why don't you go next?"

Parker narrowed her eyes – if she had a so-called 'nemesis' in this place, it would be Courtney Rhodes – the woman had to make everything about her. Plus, Parker didn't trust her at all. She didn't show _any _symptoms of _any _mental illness, which should have made her a perfect target to get close to in order to learn more about Briarwood, but instead, it only aggravated Parker.

"Well Dr. Matthews," Courtney began coyly, "I'm happy to answer anything _you _might like to know about me."

Nate thought for only a few seconds before asking, "Why don't you tell us about your support system? Your husband was here a few days ago, dropping off some personal items. He seems very involved in making sure you get the best care available."

Courtney waved him off. "James is great at pretending. In truth, I know he's glad I'm here and that he doesn't have to watch out for me anymore."

"That doesn't sound fair, Courtney," Nate said calmly.

Courtney made a show of adjusting her chair, and ended up about 6 inches closer to Nate, who sat on her immediate right. "I'm very fair," she said, "except in situations where it pays to be…unfair."

Parker was mentally running through escape routes from the room and calculated that the exit to her northwest, which led out to the gardens, would be the quickest by 2.8 seconds. Depending on how fast she walked, of course.

Nate was going on with some sort of spiel about how Courtney should appreciate all that her husband was doing for her. In other words, he was trying to sound as much like a psychiatrist as possible. She wanted to tell him not to bother – it's not like this was some sort of test he was being graded on.

Courtney seemed to take issue with Nate's arguments. "I think I know my own husband better than _you, _Dr. Matthews." She paused, as if for effect, and then continued in a much more seductive tone, "Although, I'm sure it could be arranged that we got to know each other _much _better."

Parker snapped to attention at that, as did several others in their group. What the _hell _was this?

Nate was at a loss for words as Courtney reached out and patted him on the leg. "I've been meaning to ask you," she went on, "would you mind becoming my primary psychiatrist? Dr. Emerson is quite out-of-date on the latest advancements in the psychiatric community, seeing as he's about 100. Besides, I've read your latest book about the roles of inter- and intra-personal relationships on mental health and I found it…addictive."

"Are you hitting on him?" Parker said loudly, drawing everyone's attention to her. "That's shameless!"

"Oh and what do you do every day?" Courtney argued. "Try to get him alone! Everyone knows you have a thing for him!"

Parker gasped. "I do _not_!" She said, affronted. This was _much_ worse than being in rehab with Sophie, and that was something she was sure she'd never say.

"I think we've gone off topic –" Nate tried futilely to regain control of the situation, but both Parker and Courtney ignored him.

"Why don't we trade?" Courtney said smoothly. "You become a patient of Emerson's and I'll start seeing Dr. Matthews. If you aren't interested in him, I'm sure you won't mind that sort of arrangement."

"Interest has _nothing _to do with it," Parker argued. "And if you think I'm going to let some tramp like you anywhere _near –_"

"Okay," Nate said loudly, standing up and cutting her off. "Session adjourned. Anna, can I talk to you for a moment?"

The other women left, but Parker didn't miss the many suspicious and curious glances cast toward her and Nate. Courtney, in particular, was furious she'd been easily dismissed, and when she looked back at them, her gaze was full of pure ire.

"Parker," he said angrily, once everyone else was safely out of earshot, "what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She stared at him in surprise. How had he turned this around to see _her _as the instigator? "What do you mean?"

"Antagonizing the very women you're supposed to be getting close to!" He tried not to show it, but she heard the disappointment in his voice; it was the exact scenario she'd feared for the past week – letting him – and all of them – down. "You have to control yourself."

"Nate," she tried to be rational, "what did you want me to do? Courtney was practically throwing herself at you and –"

"And _what_?" He argued. "Why do you care? No, what does _Anna Haywood _care?"

She felt irrationally close to crying, and it terrified her. "I was only trying to get her to back off."

"Why?" He reiterated. "You know as well as I do that the more of these women I have for patients, the better chance we have of finding proof of what's going on at this facility. If anything you should have been encouraging Courtney to have me as her psychiatrist!"

Well, she certainly hadn't thought of it that way. But could he blame her? She really didn't think he could, but apparently he thought differently.

"Sorry," she muttered, in a tone of voice that implied she wasn't sorry at all.

She heard him sigh. "Parker, we've gone over this a hundred times –"

"Let me leave," she cut in. "Before you make it 101."

"Par – Anna!" He called after her, but she left anyways.

And while he was furious at her, he really couldn't blame her for that.

XXXXXX

Parker cursed as she stuck herself with a knitting needle, yet again. The woman who'd taught class yesterday had made it seem easy, yet here she was, nearly bleeding, with no progress to be made whatsoever on an afghan.

"You should feel lucky," Lydia said, sidling up and looking at the square of fabric the teacher had started for Parker. "Not everyone is allowed knitting needles. They're a bit dangerous."

"Tell me about it," Parker muttered, examining her thumb to make sure she hadn't broken the skin. "This is a conspiracy. No one knows how to do this." She brought them back to the nurse's station, as the nurse signed a form to indicate she'd handed them over.

Lydia had followed her and watched as Parker scanned the recreation list tacked to the main bulletin board. She either had to wait 2 hours for the next bingo game or she could join in a yoga session outside in 15 minutes. Neither appealed to her but she chose yoga so she could have an excuse to leave the building.

"I thought you didn't like me," Parker told the other woman as they walked outside.

"It's not that I don't like you," Lydia told her. "It's that I don't trust anybody at first. Spies could be anywhere, you know?"

Parker shifted uneasily at the statement. "Really?"

"I know Andrews has people watching us all the time. The doctors, the nurses, the rest of the staff. I wouldn't put it past him to plant undercover people as patients to keep a closer eye on us."

Parker laughed uncomfortably. "That's crazy."

"Is it?" Lydia asked as she grabbed a yoga mat. She laid hers next to Parker's and they both started warm up stretches.

"I think so," Parker insisted, though she wanted to applaud the woman for her practical outlook on the world.

Lydia did an impossible looking backward stretch and Parker winced just seeing it. "Don't worry," her roommate told her. "I know by now you aren't one of them."

"What makes you say that?" Parker asked, attempting the same stretch and falling into an ungracious heap on her mat. She quickly stood and brushed herself off. She'd done things much more complicated – maybe she needed air ducts and danger to pull things like that off?

"It's obvious you don't want to be here," Lydia said, uncurling from her position and standing as well, raising one leg slowly in an impressive show of balance. "If Andrews had planted you here, you'd be overly friendly, trying to fit in at every opportunity."

Parker resented the implications that if she were undercover (and ignored the fact that she was, for the moment) she would be so bad at it that anyone would spot it a mile away. "Maybe I'm more sophisticated," she argued, mimicking Lydia's position again, this time managing it easily.

"Yeah right," Lydia laughed. "If you _were _here at Andrews' request you would definitely not be trying to convince me it were possible. You'd have made an excuse and run to tell him about my suspicions ten minutes ago."

Parker kept her reply to herself, as she figured Lydia wouldn't be happy to hear how naïve she was in thinking she could so accurately predict others' behavior. Besides, she was here to help Lydia and the others – if they needed her help, that was – and she didn't want to risk it now. Not when she'd managed to finally fit in.

They warmed up for a few more minutes in silence before the instructor appeared, starting them off with easy positions.

"At times I feel this place is more like a spa than anything else," Parker murmured.

Lydia laughed. "That's what your husband is paying for, dear."

Parker shrugged. "For whatever that's worth." She did something called a reverse warrior pose and the teacher complimented her form. Maybe this wasn't that hard after all.

"I have a question," Lydia said quietly, trying not to disturb the half dozen other women around them concentrating intently on their poses. "What's with you and Dr. Matthews?"

"What do you mean? He's my psychiatrist," Parker watched the teacher do a headstand, confident she could do the same.

"I mean, there's something between you two. You like him?" Lydia asked.

Parker had just completed the pose, but the question threw her so much that she abruptly fell out of position and landed on her mat, slightly dazed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure," Lydia laughed, holding her own headstand with ease. "That's why you just collapsed."

"What makes you think these obviously wrong thoughts?" Parker asked, rattled enough to give up on the headstand for the moment and resumed stretches, waiting for the teacher to demonstrate a position that wouldn't break her neck in her current state of mind.

Lydia lowered herself to the ground and stared up at her roommate incredulously. "As if I don't notice the looks you give each other. It's as if you've known each other your whole lives. Half the women here have noticed it."

Parker inwardly cursed that she'd inadvertently been giving away the fact that she knew Nate. At least, that was all it was, because that was the only thing she'd admit to. "I feel comfortable with him, and that's it. He's much more supportive than my…than Tom." She couldn't say why it felt so wrong to lie to Lydia now, when she'd been lying to everyone with ease for days now.

"A word of advice?" Lydia moved into the lotus position and Parker did her best to copy it. "Don't fall for your psychiatrist. It never ends well. Believe me." The last words were said with a heavy dose of wistfulness and regret.

Parker had to laugh – not at Lydia's feelings but at the thought that she might be trying to strike up a relationship with Nate – no, Dr. Matthews. "Believe me, you couldn't be more wrong. For a few dozen reasons."

"Hey whatever makes you feel better," Lydia said lightly, not willing to fight on a topic which she knew to be true, especially when her roommate was in such deep denial. "But don't tell me I don't know what's right in front of me."

Parker shook her head and they spent the next half hour in silence, Parker with the absolutely certainty that Lydia most certainly did _not _know what was right in front of her. And if she had a few fleeting thoughts that maybe Lydia did know what she was talking about, they were cast out so quickly it was almost as if they never crossed her mind to begin with.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I love to hear any and all thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**Author's note: ** This is getting harder for me to finish, I hope I can wrap things up in a believable manner. Thanks to all following this.

*Believe me, I try to keep them in character, but OOC-ness may creep in, because this is an N/P story after all!

**XXXXXX**

Unfortunately Lydia wouldn't let it go, and over the course of the next several days she continued to bring up Parker and Nate's (make that Anna and Dr. Matthews') illicit relationship. It was getting to the point that Parker finally had to bring it up to Nate, because if there was anything strange between them it was most certainly his fault. Obviously.

"My roommate is convinced that we're having an affair," she slammed his office door solely for dramatic effect. "It's gone from thinking we like each other to now she thinks I'm sneaking out at night to see you."

"You _are _sneaking out at night to see me!" He said, incredulously.

"But for completely different reasons than she thinks," Parker argued. "Last night, when I got back in, she was sitting up waiting for me and she asked how you are in bed!"

Nate stared at her, trying to process her words, then smiled. "What did you say?"

"What do you think I said?"

"I hope it was complimentary."

Parker grit her teeth and wondered exactly how bad things would get for her if she tried to attack him. Andrews would probably put her in a solitary room. Though, that might not be so bad… "I told her she's paranoid."

"Imagine, you, telling someone else they're paranoid." Nate was far too amused for Parker's fragile sense of equilibrium.

"This is all your fault!"

"Wait a minute, how are the delusions of _your _roommate somehow _my _fault?"

"I don't know," Parker admitted. "But it has to be somehow. And you have to fix it, because if I hear one more comment about how I'm your favorite patient, or how _relaxed _I am after our therapy sessions, I am going to bring her out to the lake and drown her in it, Nate."

Nate wasn't really listening to her, though. "She must be able to tell that we're comfortable together. One of the perils of pulling off a con with someone you know well. Sometimes you just can't hide it. The good news is this doesn't really matter for our plan."

"Maybe not, but she's driving me up the wall," Parker complained.

"Deal with it," Nate told her.

"Deal with it? That's your professional advice? What is my husband paying for?"

Nate sighed. "For the 117th time since we've been here, _I'm not a real psychiatrist_."

"Sometimes I wish you were," she sighed. She picked up a paperweight from his desk and started fiddling with it.

He watched her for a few minutes, unable to explain the warmth that spread through him at the mere sight of her nowadays. "Was that a compliment?"

She didn't answer, only smiled at him slightly in response. He'd take that as a yes.

"Tell her –"

"I already told her she was misinterpreting our relationship, and that we only seem close because of how good a psychiatrist you've been to me. Maybe this way she will confide in you and we'll learn more about her relationship with her husband. I mean, Delia is probably not the only one who was sent here under suspicious circumstances, right?" He stared at her in surprise and she gestured between them with her hand. "See, Nate? I can practically read your mind now."

She tossed the paperweight back to him and he caught it. "Good job, Parker," he said, with obvious pride.

Was she blushing? She really hoped not, but she had the feeling she was. "Thanks. You know you can count on me."

He nodded. "That is one thing I have always known." He knew she was about to leave, and he said quickly, almost without thinking, "Is there something else you wanted to tell me about this job?"

She froze in her seat, mid-way between sitting and standing, before collapsing. "What do you mean?"

"I know you didn't want to do this. I wish you would tell me why."

She inhaled sharply, trying to frantically reassure herself that he had no idea about her past, and she had nothing to worry about. Except, would it really be so bad if Nate knew those things about her? She didn't think he would judge her, or trust her any less. Yet it still terrified her, the thought of him knowing some of the darkest parts of herself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she blatantly lied.

Nate nodded, accepting her lie because he knew she needed him to, at least for the time being. "Alright."

"I'm going to go find Delia," Parker said, trying to change the subject. "Maybe I can talk to her about…you."

Nate nodded. "Good idea, hopefully you can make some progress."

Parker left his office, wondering why she hoped Delia wouldn't be inspired to seek out Nate. She had a sinking feeling that it was because if the other woman did, then she wouldn't have him to herself anymore.

XXXXXX

Parker had absolutely no luck during the next few days. She'd been in and out and of Andrews' office periodically, but found nothing incriminating. And none of the women at Briarwood would give her anything substantial to go on. At the moment, she was looking for Delia, but couldn't find her in any of the usual places. She wasn't in her room, or the dining room, or the rec room, or out in the gardens – the other woman often enjoyed sitting alone on the benches watching the birds.

The only place left Parker could think of was that she might be in with her psychiatrist, who just happened to be Andrews.

She made her way to the wing that housed all the psychiatrists' offices and nearly tripped when she spotted Sophie at reception.

She waited until Sophie finished talking to the receptionist and accepted a guest pass. As soon as the other woman got within two feet of her, Parker grabbed her and pulled her into the room nearest them, which happened to be a janitor's closet.

"Sophie, what are you doing here?" Parker asked.

"It's state inspector Murphy," Sophie held up her visiting pass as proof. "And Parker, you've known about this for weeks." She leaned back as she added, "don't tell me you _forgot_!"

"No I didn't…forget. It just slipped my mind, is all."

"Parker, you're supposed to have searched Andrews' office by now. We're implementing the final phase of our plan. Nate didn't call me off! Which means you didn't tell him! You were supposed to tell Nate if you were unable to –"

"Right, right," Parker pressed her hands to her temples and tried to think. She'd forgotten Sophie was coming today, and worse, she'd forgotten that she was supposed to have information for her – solid information, preferably in the form of documents or computer files that would somehow prove Andrews was doing something illegal. Except she had forgotten Sophie was coming, and she'd never found anything on Andrews anyways – though she'd searched his office at least a half dozen times.

They were going to _kill _her. And she wouldn't blame them.

Forgetting an important date – sure, she'd done that many times before. But forgetting completely what she was supposed to be doing? It was almost as if she'd forgotten why she was at Briarwood in the first place.

Parker wasn't one to go looking for excuses as to why she'd failed in a certain endeavor, but this seemed to be right in front of her. It was this _place_: It was shaking her in ways she'd never thought possible.

As a result, she might have ruined everything.

"Sophie, I haven't been able to find anything," she admitted.

"What?" The other woman was stunned. "Then why didn't you tell someone? Tell Nate? He could have told me not to come, we could have thought of another plan –"

"I know," Parker said wearily. "I know. I didn't think. I forgot you were coming, actually."

"Parker," Sophie said, in an entirely too familiar sort of way. She sounded…concerned. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, okay?" Parker burst out without thinking, and attempted to get herself back under control. "I don't know." She repeated, more quietly. And she really didn't.

Sophie took hold of her arm and guided her down a hallway. Parker didn't realize where they were going until they were in front of Nate's office. Sophie opened the door without bothering to knock and dragged Parker inside, despite her cursory protests.

"Nate, we need another plan. What letter are we on?"

Nate wasn't surprised to see Sophie since he'd been expecting her. But Parker did surprise him. And what's more, the look on her face scared him more than anything. She looked…distraught.

"What's going on?" He asked, "Did something happen? Did Andrews –"

"No, but Parker hasn't been able to find anything which means our current plan is not going to work," Sophie said briskly.

"I forgot," Parker whispered, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She refused to look at him. "I didn't remember Sophie was coming today. I'm…sorry."

Nate glanced at Sophie and then back to Parker. She still wouldn't look up. "It's alright, there was a distinct possibility we wouldn't be able to find anything on him."

"I did look though," Parker said hurriedly. "Several times. But there's nothing, Nate, nothing! And none of the women here will talk to me. I know they're hiding things and I know some of them have more or less admitted they're here against their will, only everyone is too afraid to give us anything concrete we can use."

"What do you want me to do?" Sophie asked, but the gleam in her eyes betrayed her malevolent intentions as she held up her fake state inspector identification.

Nate grinned and tapped it. "Go have fun terrorizing him."

"My pleasure," Sophie said gleefully. She'd been dying to start her role in this con and if there was something she knew how to do with perfection, it was how to scare a man half to death.

"Soph," Nate stopped her on the way out, trying to plan five steps ahead. "Why don't you inform him that he will be facing a large number of hefty fines in the immediate future."

If it were possible, Sophie's eyes lit up even more. "My specialty!"

"What are you thinking?" Parker asked.

He was pleased that she was finally looking at him again. "I'm thinking we're going to let Eliot take care of the next part."

She stood to leave, but then thought she couldn't simply ignore what she'd done that easily. "Nate," she turned back around. "I'm really sorry."

"Parker," he tilted his head to the side, tried to figure out what was changing her so much. "This isn't your fault. We knew Andrews might not have anything incriminating lying around. He's _good, _Parker. There's nothing you can do to help that."

"I didn't even remember Sophie was coming," she protested. He couldn't let her off the hook that easy. "I didn't –"

"You didn't do anything wrong," he put his hands on her shoulders. He wished he could take the tenseness from them, and while he was at it, the shadows from her eyes.

"No, I –"

"Not another word," he said softly. "And Parker, you're not getting away from this." He waved his arm, indicating Briarwood, and probably her entire past as a whole. "You are going to tell me about it, whether it's next week or ten years from now. _That _is a promise."

She was about to give a flippant reply when his words struck her. "You think we'll still know each other ten years from now?"

"I don't think," he said. "I _know_."

Normally she would have simply left. Except his words came as such a relief that she found herself doing the unthinkable – she leaned forward and hugged him instead. And he hugged her back. And she still hated Briarwood more than anything, but maybe she'd found something inside its walls she'd never expected, much less been looking for.

From anyone else, she would have taken what was said with a grain of salt, or, more likely, outright disbelief. Only Nate didn't lie to her, and he was one of the only people in the world she trusted. Besides, it hurt far less to believe him than to not, which is why she accepted what he said as truth.

And she prayed that wouldn't come back to haunt her one day.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – Things are wrapping up now, it won't be too much longer until the end. Reviews = love, and will be especially inspiring because my Las Vegas story has taken over my mind and seems to be coming much easier. No worries, everything I start will be finished. =)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1

**Author's note: ** Love to all readers and reviewers. It's so awesome that other people are following this and (hopefully) enjoying reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

*Believe me, I try to keep them in character, but OOC-ness may creep in, because this is an N/P story after all!

**XXXXXX**

"I'm telling you, Andrews is panicking – now's the time to strike," Sophie said, for the umpteenth time. She was really getting sick of repeating herself. "I rattled off quite the list of supposed violations at Briarwood and when he threatened to tie me up in court, I very helpfully reminded him that everyone who's fought the government on these issues ends up losing, and paying much more in fines and legal fees. He's rightly terrified."

"Are you sure?" Hardison sounded as if he didn't quite believe her.

"Do you suddenly not trust me?" She asked, falling back onto the couch as if she couldn't bear the weight of standing under such scrutiny.

"To be fair, you _did _just drag us to your last play and –"

"It's called _perfecting my craft_, Hardison. You could learn a thing or two from me."

"I'm only playing," Hardison said quickly, though whether because he truly was joking or because he was terrified of Sophie's rising anger, even he probably couldn't say.

"Can we focus?" Nate sighed, and why did he feel as if he were saying that every time more than two of them were in a room together? "Eliot has a meeting with Andrews later today. He should jump at Eliot's veiled offer."

"Why exactly is Andrews going to be that eager, again?" Hardison sat back in his chair.

Nate was now looking as exasperated as Sophie. "Do you not listen when I talk? Is that it?"

Hardison sighed dramatically. "Sorry that I have to do a dozen different things at once, while also listening to your convoluted plans, with all the letters, B, G, Z – not to mention you're always jumping between them. Sometimes I get them confused, sue me!"

Sophie came over to sit at the small kitchen table. She really hated the motel where she, Eliot, and Hardison were staying as a temporary headquarters, but it was the closest to Briarwood. ("Sacrifices, Sophie," Nate had told her, which was funny considering he had it pretty good, according to Parker, and Sophie was so billing him for this).

Seeing that Nate wasn't going to answer Hardison, Sophie finally did. "As state inspector Murphy, I implied that I'd be willing to overlook the violations for a very hefty bribe. He needs cash now, and he can't get it. Not without Eliot's convenient recommendation of a friend of his looking to check his wife into Briarwood."

"Right, now it makes sense," Hardison said. "I knew it was something along those lines."

"Sure you did," Nate said. "I have to get back. Eliot meets with Andrews tonight, hopefully he takes our offer. If we can get enough on tape, we can convince him to close Briarwood to avoid the public scandal."

"I'm more in favor of trying to get him arrested," Hardison said, his voice turning dark. "You see what it's doing to her."

Sophie and Nate exchanged glances. "Don't think we're not in agreement," Nate said, "and if we're able to, we will. But we may have to take what we can get here."

Sophie hated to say it, but she knew Nate was right. "Hardison, you know as well as us that if none of the women are willing to say that they're being held against their will, we have nothing. Andrews keeps no records of any of this that we've been able to find."

"And if Parker can't find evidence, my guess is that it doesn't exist," Nate added. "Remember, what he's doing isn't technically illegal without any testimony – all he has to say is that he's taking donations from the grateful families of the women he's helping."

"Or we could just kill him," Hardison said unhappily.

"Not an option in any plan, Hardison." Nate said as he left, though both Hardison and Sophie knew that if there were a line of those wanting to kill the man, Nate would be at the front. Though he'd probably be fighting Parker for that spot.

XXXXXX

It never failed – every time Eliot was in this building, he had the strongest desire to escape it as soon as possible. As he waited for Andrews to finish up his phone call, he wondered what it'd be like to have to spend all day, every day there. He wondered if it felt just as bad to Parker

Hell, what was he thinking, he was sure that for her it felt _worse_.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Andrews hung up the phone and turned back to his guest.

"No problem. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice." Eliot didn't miss that Andrews' face was pale and worn, his shirt was slightly rumpled, and the man slouched in his chair in a way he hadn't only a few short weeks earlier.

Sophie had certainly done a number on him; he wished she'd done much worse.

"Anything for the families of our patients," Andrews said with a graciousness Eliot didn't believe for one moment. As soon as he'd mentioned on the phone that he had a friend looking to check a guest into Briarwood, Andrews had urged him to come right in.

Needless to say, there was no 'friend,' but for this to work, there didn't have to be.

"How is my wife doing?" Eliot asked, partly to keep in his role, but mostly because he'd been told he couldn't see her. Something about disrupting schedules, an excuse he didn't buy. If he hadn't talked to Nate earlier to confirm Parker was doing well (or as well as could be expected), he would have demanded Andrews take him to her right then.

As it was, it was hard enough to keep from doing that at this very moment. But he needed to remember the bigger picture, and if they could do this, they would close Briarwood for good to _all _future Parkers and Delias and whoever else would suffer in the name of Andrews' greed.

"Anna's had a wonderful week. Dr. Matthews tells me she's making progress. She's finally admitted she has a problem and that she needs help. That's a big step."

Eliot inwardly frowned, sure Parker would never say anything of the sort. "In any case, Anna's not really the reason why I'm here."

"Right," Andrews leaned forward. "Your friend, his wife is troubled?"

"Yes, my friend Dave, I was telling him about Briarwood the other day. You see, his wife is currently in a facility in New Hampshire but he's looking to transfer her to be further away from relatives. They're such a negative influence on her."

Andrews easily caught Eliot's conveyed meaning – not that Dave wanted to protect his wife, but that he wanted her out of the way, to a place far enough that it would discourage her family from visiting her. "We're always accepting of those in need, provided they have the means to pay for the extensive nature of our care."

It was always about money, wasn't it? "Dave wanted me to meet with you personally before he flew in. To make absolutely certain we're all on the same page."

"I understand completely," Andrews walked over to his side cupboard and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He offered some to Eliot who nodded. He figured it was something Tom Haywood would do.

"Dave has been looking for a long time but never found a facility that offers quite the…_amenities_ of Briarwood," Eliot said, accepting the glass. Let Andrews make of that what he would.

The older psychiatrist nodded and sipped his own scotch. "Your friend will not be displeased, let me find some materials I can give you for him."

While Andrews rummaged through his desk, Hardison suddenly spoke in Eliot's ear. "The feed is coming through on this end perfectly clear. All you need is something incriminating, you're obviously both talking about the same things but we still don't have any proof."

As if he needed Hardison to point out the obvious to him. And the other man only seemed to do so when Eliot couldn't respond. That was on purpose, he was sure of it.

Eliot ran through the options of how to get Andrews to slip up and say something damning, but right in the middle of his thoughts, Andrews looked up and met his eyes squarely.

"How close are you and your wife, Tom?" The words completely lacked every ounce of warmth the psychiatrist's tone had ever held while they talked, and Eliot realized then that any feeling he'd ever shown was false. Everything about Wilhelm Andrews, _everything_, was yet another part of the act he put on in one of the most elaborate cons Eliot had ever encountered.

He also knew that this conversation was not going to end in any way that he would remotely like, even if it did mean that they were able to get some leverage over Andrews.

"Why do you ask?" Eliot said slowly, setting down his glass on the table next to his chair.

"Well, since I think we understand each other, I'm merely curious about how close you are to Anna. Oh, she's a lovely woman, but I've seen it many times with our patients." Andrews needlessly shuffled the packets in his hands, and Eliot thought for a moment he might be nervous. "They have to stay here for a long time, husbands get lonely, other women appear…marriages break up. It happens. No one's to blame for it." No, Eliot realized, it wasn't nervousness that made the other man jittery – it was excitement.

"I'm not seeing anyone else," Eliot said, trying to keep his voice as emotionless as possible to see what waters Andrews was currently testing.

Andrews nodded, holding himself unnaturally stiff as he went to pour another glass of scotch. "I only ask because break-ups can be particularly devastating for our patients. I've seen it happen both ways."

"Both ways?" Eliot asked. What did he mean, that women at Briarwood had affairs, just like some of their husbands did at home?

"I mean the effects of the…loss of a partner. I've seen separations and divorces hurt some of our patients, yes, but then the other way around…I don't mean to upset you but the death of a spouse is always such a shock. We take every precaution against suicide, you understand, but if a person is determined enough, and sly enough, she can pull it off."

Eliot sat frozen, understanding completely what he was hearing, but unable to do anything about it.

"What I'm asking is for risk assessment, Tom. How likely do you think your wife is to try and commit such an act?"

What he wanted to do was cross the room and beat Wilhelm Andrews to death, but that wouldn't help anything. Well, it would help him feel better. But he had to think about this. _Be smart about this_, he whispered in his own head, and it almost sounded like Nate.

And the real voice he heard in his head was Hardison, swearing and asking if Andrews meant what he thought he meant.

"In the history of this facility, such a tragedy has only happened once – within this building. It was a miserable time for our staff and patients. The woman's family donated a substantial sum to create a garden in her honor. An expensive memorial befitting the life that she led." Andrews gestured outside though his office didn't directly face the gardens.

"How much did they donate?" Eliot asked.

"She came from a very wealthy family. They gave well over a million dollars."

"That's quite a lot," Eliot said sharply. "For a…memorial."

"Well, you could give less, at say, another center or for a private…caretaker. But you wouldn't get what they did, for the price. Assurance and peace of mind that their beloved family member rested in peace, no questions asked or answered by anyone else."

Damn, the man did know how to talk in circles. Eliot went to pour himself another drink and then stared out the windows. It must have looked to Andrews like he was weighing some heavy decisions, but truthfully, he just didn't want the man to see the murder in his eyes.

"I've never given it much thought. I think that…I need to think over what you said about her suicidal tendencies. I want to give you as accurate an answer as possible, so that her future safety is never in question."

"Of course," Andrews said smoothly, and Eliot hated that the first real smile he'd seen on the older man's face this entire visit only came in that moment.

He glanced at the chairs in front of Andrews' desk. How many times had Parker sat in this office, in one of those chairs, across from this sociopath?

"Just so we're clear," Eliot said, "she's perfectly fine right now?"

"You have my word," Andrews assured him. "I'll personally keep an eye on her until you can give me an accurate assessment of her likelihood for self-harm. And when will you have that, by the way?"

"Tomorrow," Eliot told him, about to leave when Andrews gave him all the packets from his desk.

"For your friend Dave," he said, when Eliot only looked at him, confused.

"Right, Dave. I'll get these to him," Eliot said, as he left. He knew he hadn't gotten anything substantial, everything was still circumspect, but maybe they could use this newest twist to finally catch him – and put him in jail like Hardison - no, make that like all of them longed for.

As he left, he knew what he'd felt every time he stepped inside this building. It was evil.

XXXXXX

"Nate! We have a problem," Eliot said, nearly frantic, as he pulled out of the Briarwood lot.

"What?" Nate sat up straighter in his chair. Being a fake psychiatrist afforded one plenty of free time, and he'd been spending his playing solitaire and thinking up questions for his next group session.

"Andrews just offered to kill Parker for me."

"What?" Nate stood up, clutching his cell phone, his heart suddenly pounding. This had _not _been part of the plan.

Eliot swerved around a corner, his aggravation causing him to drive incredibly recklessly. "I know, that was my reaction. It wasn't quite as cut and dry as that, but we both knew what he meant. I tried to play it cool, but he really threw me. I told him I'd give him my answer tomorrow. I don't know if you want to use this or not. He told me she was safe for now, but you have to go find her."

Nate had already left his office, with a near desperate need to find her. His first thought was the rec room. "I'm on it."

"This guy is far worse than we thought, Nate. You two need to be extra careful. He offered this to me…who knows how many others he's offered it to? I'm having Hardison check past deaths at his facility, or of his patients, as we speak."

"Let me know what Hardison finds," Nate ordered, ending the call abruptly. He arrived at the rec room to find Parker playing bingo with the rest of the residents, and tried to calm himself. It wasn't working too well, though, and he knew he needed to speak with her to ease his anxiety. She had to be aware of the dangers of this place.

He began to regret even taking on this job. If he'd known how dangerous it was, he would never have asked her to check into Briarwood. They could have found some other way.

"I win!" Parker shouted, jumping up from the table with excitement. "That's three games today, I win the prize!"

"Come on up, Anna," the nurse on duty, Kathleen, motioned for her to come receive her prize.

"Anna!" Nate shouted, "I need to talk to you."

Parker glanced between him and Kathleen before reluctantly moving to his side. "What is it? This is kind of a bad time." She waved her bingo dobber in his face. "Aren't these things so much fun? Look!" She took his hand and stamped it with triumph. In return, he wouldn't let go of her and pulled her toward the exit.

"It's urgent," he said, by way of explanation.

"Na – Dr. Matthews, I won my third game of the afternoon. If I can go collect my prize before –"

"Now," he hissed.

She ignored him, glancing back longingly toward where Kathleen waved something at her from the front of the room.

"Anna!" He snapped. He didn't have time for this. Logically, he knew that she was in no danger at the moment. Eliot had managed to stall on Andrews' offer, but still, something in him wouldn't let it go until he'd warned her to be on the lookout. Actually, he wouldn't be entirely happy unless he could keep an eye on her 24/7, but since that seemed next to impossible, he had to settle for warning her.

Only she was watching him with a certain kind of sentiment he'd never seen on her face before.

"What?" He asked warily, trying to act professional, not least of all because he knew the eyes of a dozen other women were watching them intently.

"You said my fake name just now the way you always say my real name," she whispered. "When you're completely and totally exasperated with me…but still looking out for me." Her eyes were filled with humor and affection.

Nate stared at her with confusion. "You're happy that I said your fake name the same way I say your real name?" He whispered back.

She gripped his hand tighter. "It reminded me that you're still…you."

"Of course I'm me!" He barely resisted rolling his eyes. "Now come on, we need to talk." He tried to leave, pulling her with him, but she resisted.

"Nate, my prize!" She glanced back to Kathleen. "It's Enya's Greatest Hits!"

"You can get it after," he said harshly.

Parker was none too happy with his suggestion. "That's _my_ prize," she told the room in warning, then directed her gaze to a brunette woman near the window. "Courtney, if I even hear 'Orinoco Flow' coming from your room this evening, so help me God –"

"Now!" He ordered.

She stopped talking and followed him as he dragged her along until they reached his office. He gently pushed her inside and slammed the door behind him.

"Nate, what is –"

She didn't get to finish asking, because he almost literally crushed her against him with such a fierce hug she could barely breathe. It surprised her to realize that instead of being annoyed with him, she was only worried.

"Parker," he breathed into her hair. "I was…" He couldn't think of any words remotely adequate to end that sentence; he suspected there were none.

"What's going on?" She whispered, sighing with relief when he relaxed slightly so she could breathe without trouble, but he still didn't let go of her.

"Eliot called me after he left today," Nate began, "things are much worse here than we thought." He proceeded to tell her about what they were almost certain Andrews was doing.

Parker listened with growing apprehension until she was almost frozen. "No," she breathed, "I can't believe that. These women, Nate…" she swallowed. "They don't deserve this!"

Against her will, she'd formed an attachment to this place and to the women who were its residents. The thought that Andrews might be willing to murder any one of them for the right price raised a violence within her that she thought she'd long ago conquered.

"We're going to stop him," Nate swore, leaning back to look in her eyes. "I promise."

"I want to kill him," she said vehemently. "Let me kill him, Nate." As if him giving her 'permission' would make such an act okay. Well, she thought, maybe it would.

He only gripped her arms tighter. "We stick to the plan," he said, "except we're more careful. And Parker, you can't ever take any medication they give you here. And I never want you to be with Andrews alone."

"But he calls me in for one-on-one sessions," she reminded him.

"I don't care. Tell him you want me with you in the room. If he doesn't like it, too bad, just pretend you've grown attached to me and that you trust me more than him."

"Like that's hard," she muttered.

He finally let go of her. "Promise me," he ordered.

She thought about arguing with him, but the look in his eyes made her refrain. He was terrified, and if her making this promise would make him feel better, then so be it. "I promise," she said.

She thought he might motion for her to leave, but instead he only stared at her with an intensity that she was entirely unused to. It made her feel uncomfortably aware of herself, and, in a strange way, terrified. Like maybe she didn't want to recognize the power she had over him, because that would lead to thoughts she'd been trying to ignore.

"If something happened to you…I don't know what I would –"

"Nate," she cut in, not allowing him to finish. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I already promised you."

He blinked, as if to awaken himself from a daze. "Right. Of course," he walked back over to his desk. "Vigilance, Parker. Remember."

"Right, no medication and no being with Andrews alone. I got it."

It was only the lingering fear in his eyes that stopped her from making any sarcastic comments. And truthfully, she was as worried as Nate. But for entirely different reasons than being afraid of Wilhelm Andrews.

**XXXXXX**

TBC – I'm thinking one more part to wrap things up. But don't hold me to anything I say – except that all stories I write will be finished. I love all thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note:** This was almost the last chapter, but it just got way too long (what else is new with me?), so there will be one follow up part that's not as long, which will be posted as soon as I finish it up. I hope you enjoy.

**XXXXXX**

"Anna, my dear, dear Anna!" Hardison wailed, so over-dramatically that the half-dozen people within earshot all glanced toward them.

"Tone it down," Parker hissed urgently. He'd been there two minutes and he was already attracting attention – leave it to Hardison.

It was a trick of the calendar that family visiting day coincided with the end of their plans. Eliot had already told Andrews he would take him up on the offer to kill his wife, and he'd gotten it on tape. That might have been enough, except Parker insisted they follow through to the bitter end. Andrews had told her 'husband' that he would finish things up that night. If they timed it right, police would arrive right when he tried.

The others hadn't liked her insistence on staying, but she wouldn't leave, not yet. They thought it was because of her desire to catch Andrews in the act. Only she knew the real reason, and she hadn't told them what it was, because she knew they would have tried to stop her.

Hardison claimed that he had to come for family visiting day to fill her in on their last minute plans, but he could have easily done that in a phone call. She knew that he wanted to see she was alright for himself.

He was supposed to be her step-brother. She could barely say it without rolling her eyes out of her head.

Dr. Andrews must have sensed her exasperation, because he was walking their way, as if to make her family visiting day all the more complete in its misery.

"Why, Anna, who's come to visit you today?" Andrews asked congenially.

"This is my step-brother…Alex," she mumbled.

"Nice to meet you," Hardison shook Andrews' hand.

"Always a pleasure to meet family," Andrews said. "Your sister is in excellent hands."

She nearly laughed at the irony of that statement. She went back to searching the room, unsure what she was looking for until she spotted Nate at the far wall, talking quietly with Delia Chase. She felt relieved at seeing him, and didn't bother sparing any time to try and figure out why that was.

Andrews moved on to talk to another patient and Hardison directed his exasperation toward her. "Alex? _That's _the cover ID you came up with? You were supposed to introduce me as Cillian O'Brian, your Irish step-brother!"

"How was I supposed to remember that," she hissed, "you are so far from Irish that even if you _were _Irish, I wouldn't believe it!"

"I've done Irish before," he complained. "Besides, you called me Alex! My name is _Alec_!"

She stared at him as if she had no idea what he was getting at.

"You may as well have given him my real name, Parker!"

She reminded herself to not purposefully alienate one of the few people outside of Briarwood she could count on. "Fine, Hardison. The next time Andrews comes around I'll re-introduce you as Cillian O'Brian, okay?"

"No, not okay!" He told her with aggravation. "Because it's too late for that!"

She was about to reply when Nate came over, thank God.

"Stop fighting," he told them. "You're drawing attention to yourselves."

"Tell that to Hardison," Parker sulked. "He's the one who decided he was going to play _Irish_."

Hardison was about to reply with no small amount of venom until Nate stepped between him and Parker. "Let it go," he said, and it wasn't a request. It was an order. Still, Hardison felt he had to argue if only to keep his pride.

"Nate, she's impossible," Hardison told him.

"She's impossible? Or she's Parker?"

Hardison paused. "You have a good point."

"Exactly," Nate said, as Parker stepped up behind him. "She's on our side."

"Right. I know," Hardison sighed. Truthfully, he was only on edge because he was worried about later that night. He'd already filled them in on what he'd found about Andrews: three of his former patients had died within the past five years, one during her stay at Briarwood, and two others shortly after their release. He hadn't found the red flags during his initial search because he hadn't been looking for deaths of those who were no longer at Briarwood; the one death at Briarwood had been ruled a suicide.

"I'll let you two…catch up," Nate said, leaving them. Hardison found himself fascinated by the way Parker followed him with her eyes; she didn't acknowledge him again until Nate was across the room, talking to someone else.

"Parker," Hardison said. "You're keeping an eye out, right? This is serious."

"Why does everyone keep acting as if I don't know what I'm doing?" She said, resentfully. "You don't need to worry about me…brother."

They fell into silence, and then resorted to chatting about current events for a few minutes to avoid the suspicion of being two family members who had nothing to say to each other.

"I love seeing my patients with such close family relationships," Andrews said, appearing out of nowhere and patting Hardison on the back so hard that he stumbled forward. "I'm glad you're here for your sister."

"I only want her to get better," Hardison said, "no matter what."

"That's what I want, as well," Andrews assured him. Which Parker thought was quite disingenuous, seeing as he'd probably murdered three of his former patients and planned to kill her, too.

She met Nate's eyes across the room. He read her plea perfectly, crossing to her and Hardison in record time.

"Anna, I must say again how nice it is to see the supportive family you have. Nothing is better than a network of people who care," Nate said.

Andrews nodded in agreement. "Well said, Lachlan! Well said."

Nate turned to him. "I believe Courtney Rhodes wanted to introduce you to her sister," Nate pointed out where the other patient was waiting nearby.

Andrews excused himself and left.

"Nate," she said, as soon as the older doctor was out of hearing range. "He's keeping extraordinarily close tabs on me."

"I noticed," Nate said darkly. "All you can do is keep pretending to be Anna Haywood."

Parker nodded, thinking that it went without saying that she felt better when Nate was around.

Hardison chose that moment to channel the Sophie Devereaux school of acting. "Anna, my sister," he practically yelled. "I hope that Briarwood cures you of all mental illnesses!" He grasped her in a hug and Parker's eyes widened. Apparently Hardison felt this was a way to reassure her cover.

"Right…brother," she said, equally as loud. "I'm…committed to repairing my mental health." She shrugged slightly when Nate gave her a questioning look. Hardison hugged her for quite some time before letting go of her.

"Let's…play some chess?" He suggested.

"Only if you promise to stop talking for awhile," she said.

Hardison took it as an immediate affront and started arguing about how grateful she should feel to have him visit her. She cursed herself. She had only ensured she would hear about this for the entire game.

Nate made up an excuse at that moment about needing to go do paperwork. Oh, how she hated him. He brushed his hand lightly over her shoulder before walking away, and she took it for the silent encouragement that it was meant to be.

Ignoring Hardison, she looked up, and to her immense unhappiness, met Lydia's eyes across the room. The other woman just smiled knowingly, and Parker immediately looked away. The sudden thought struck her, like lightning out of nowhere, that maybe Lydia knew a truth Parker herself didn't even know.

Parker had always excelled at chess.

Hardison won all five games.

XXXXXX

It didn't go according to plan.

Luckily for her, she'd had a backup all along.

"Anna, come with me to my office, now!" Andrews ordered vehemently, for the third time. "We need to have a chat. I'm not taking no for an answer!" He was becoming unhinged, and she almost thought he might drag her with him if she kept protesting.

She'd escaped to the rec room while dinner was served, not wanting to eat food Andrews might have poisoned.

No one had expected him to follow her, and no one had called the police in time.

Parker backed up several steps. This was what she'd wanted, but the reality of seeing him out of control after weeks of the calm, seemingly compassionate man he'd pretended to be was hard to take in.

"You may as well stop pretending," Parker said. "I know everything."

He was confused, and then recognition rose. "It doesn't matter what you know or don't know, because you won't be around much longer."

"Won't I?" She said, as he kept advancing toward her. She watched with delight the moment he spotted the gun in her hand, and froze in his tracks. "I think," she added, leveling it at him, "you have severely underestimated me."

"Is that…that's my gun!"

"Why, you're right!" Parker said, as if she'd just noticed. "It was very nice of you to keep it in your desk. Easy access for me."

"Give it to me," he ordered, and he must have thought bravado was the best way to go, because he stepped toward her again.

"I'd stop if I were you," she said, "though it doesn't really matter. It's up to you on whether you want to be shot while walking or while standing still."

"Anna…" he said, trailing off, and the bravado was gone. The man standing in front of her was not Wilhelm Andrews, gifted psychiatrist. He couldn't pull it off, not with a gun to his head, not while reading the intent in her eyes. He had no doubt she was going to shoot him.

"Give me one good reason not to kill you," Parker said. "And though you won't be able to convince me, no matter what you say, I'll at least give you the opportunity to come up with an excuse for what you've done. It's more than you deserve."

He held up his hands and started backing away from her one small step at a time. "Put the gun down. We can talk about this, I think you've had a setback, Anna."

"Stop calling me Anna!" She screamed, and then tried to get herself back under control. "It's not my name."

"Of course it is, Anna. I know you. We can fix this."

"There is nothing to fix," she told him. "And you have no _idea _who I am. You don't even know my name."

"Parker?" Nate stepped into the rec room, Hardison and Eliot appearing right behind him. "The authorities are on their way," he said, as if she weren't seconds away from killing someone. "We need to leave."

"I have one last thing to do," she said without taking her eyes from Andrews.

"Please, you don't have to do this," Andrews pleaded.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear your excuses," Parker took another step toward him. She'd never felt that kind of power before, and though it terrified her, it wasn't enough to make her back down. She wanted to destroy this man, to end his existence, and she could do it, she _could_, and who would blame her?

Hardison watched the scene with growing anxiety. This hadn't been part of the plan and Parker looked too far gone to be merely toying with Andrews. She sounded serious. "Parker, we have to go. Let the police handle this, that's what they're for."

"Oh right," she scoffed. "You know where this ends? With him buying his way out of prison with an expensive lawyer. Meanwhile the women whose lives he ruined will suffer forever." She knew on some level she didn't want to only kill Wilhelm Andrews. She wanted to kill every horrible psychiatrist she'd had in her life. Those whose very existence gave a bad name to the vast majority of good doctors who only wanted to help people. She wanted revenge not only for the ones at Briarwood, but for those who'd treated her 16-year-old self. And maybe if she killed him she could get it; maybe she could finally find solace.

She felt Eliot approach behind her and became even more on edge. "Stop walking Eliot, or he dies before he gets to say his final words." Andrews must have sensed his hold on life was more tenuous by the second and he remained where he was, frozen.

Nate slightly shook his head at Eliot, telling him to back off. "Parker, look at me."

"No," she whispered. She would not, because she knew what he was trying to do. And of everyone, they both knew he was the only one who might convince her not to do it.

"Let's talk about it. You know you can talk to me about anything."

"Please, Nate, do you remember what you've been telling me for weeks? That you're not a real psychiatrist. Know what? I believe you. Stop trying to act like one."

"You're right, I'm not a real psychiatrist, but I am your real friend."

She ignored the fact that Nate was getting closer, trying to focus every atom of her being on Wilhelm Andrews and how satisfying it would be to take his life.

"Don't lie to me, Nate. Don't try to tell me that he doesn't deserve this," her hand shook, whether from her wavering emotions or physical strain, she couldn't say. "You know what he did to those women."

"I know. And he does deserve to die. He deserves the worst pain anyone could inflict on him. You won't find me trying to defend him, Parker. The thing is…" he put his hand on her shoulder, "it's not worth it."

"It is worth it," she insisted, sparing him a quick glance. "I know it is. You know it is. Don't tell me otherwise."

Nate slowly slid his right hand down her arm so that it covered her hand where it held the gun. She tensed, but he didn't try to get her to lower the weapon. He breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn't panicking at his closeness, and thought he just might be able to pull this off. He was careful not to jostle her, aware that in her current state she might shoot Andrews accidentally if he did something rash. "Do you remember the first job we did together?"

"Yeah," she laughed shakily. Bering Aerospace, and Victor Dubenich, and Nigerians…she knew she should have hated Victor, for how he'd tried to kill them and all, but she was still more grateful to him than she could help. By pulling them all together, he'd given her a family, even if that had been the furthest from his intentions. "How could I forget?"

Eliot and Hardison watched with a mixture of fear and worry as Nate tried to diffuse the situation. Andrews must have sensed, as well, that his life hung on the balance of their conversation, and he wisely kept quiet.

"That means you also remember later on, when we were in the warehouse. Remember how we held guns on each other?"

"Of course, I wanted to kill you. Well, not really, it was more that I wanted my money."

"And you sure as hell didn't trust me."

"No, I didn't trust anyone."

"Parker, you could have killed me that day."

"You could have killed me," she pointed out.

"We could have killed each other," he agreed. "But we didn't. Did you ever think, that day, that we'd be working together in the future? That we'd be on the same side? Not just to get revenge on someone who screwed us over, but to actually help _other_ people?"

She thought about that. "No, I didn't. I wouldn't have believed it if you told me. Nate, what does this have to do with Andrews? Are you trying to tell me he should live because we'll be working with him someday? That's he's not really that bad?"

The man in front of them started, as if remembering the precarious situation he was still in. He'd been so focused on Anna and Matthews (no, Parker and…Nate?) that he'd nearly forgotten.

"No," Nate laughed, "he is that bad. What I'm trying to say is we trust each other now, right? Do you trust me?"

She bit her lip. How could he ask her that? "Of course I do."

"And where am I, Parker?"

"Next to me?"

"Exactly. Parker," he leaned his head closer to hers, "look at us. We're on the same side of the gun. I'm asking you not to do this."

"He should die," Parker insisted, and she was close to crying but barely realized it.

"Maybe it's worth it to you," he said. "But it's not worth it to me. If you do this, yeah, he dies. But then we lose you, Parker. We _lose_ you. Do you see that? I can't let that happen. I can't pay that price, Parker, not when the cost of this is…you."

Tears came to her eyes and she shakily wiped them away with her left hand.

"Which is why I'm not going to let you do it alone. I'm asking you not to do this," he whispered. "But if I can't convince you not to, then we're going to do it together."

His words resonated with her in a way she hadn't expected. And for how much they couldn't lose her, she suspected her fears of losing them were a thousand times stronger. "I can't go forever without seeing you," she whispered, admitting something she hadn't realized until that very moment. "In fact, sometimes I think I couldn't go a day."

"What's it going to be?" He asked. "Neither of us or both of us?"

She blinked, realizing what he was saying. She couldn't do that – let him fall with her. It wasn't fair to him. And maybe…maybe he was right. Maybe him asking her not to do it was more than reason enough.

She relaxed and he recognized that she'd given in. He didn't say a word, merely pulled her closer with his left arm and pushed down on her hand with his right. She relented, lowering her arm and he carefully took the gun from her. She shut her eyes, trying to get herself under control, as Nate gently kissed her temple.

"I still want to kill him," she said.

"Believe me, I do, too," Nate assured her as he emptied the gun. Andrews had sunk with relief into the nearest chair, realizing just how narrowly he'd escaped death.

"That was intense, ya'll, _intense_," Hardison was muttering as he paced around the room, trying to work off his nervous energy.

"Get out of here," Eliot told them, "I'll make sure Andrews waits…peacefully for the authorities."

They took him up on the offer, managing to get out mere moments before the police arrived. At least she knew he'd face justice. It was enough only because it had to be.

Parker could still feel the weight of the gun in her hand and knew she wouldn't be able to get rid of it for quite some time. As for the ache around her heart, she knew how to dispel that, even if it terrified her more than how much she'd wanted to kill Wilhelm Andrews.

**XXXXXX**

TBC - one more part/epilogue that will be posted very soon. Thanks to all reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**Author's note:** I finally finished, in an exact month. Love to all readers and reviewers – especially consistent reviewers, you make my life!

**XXXXXX**

A few days later, Hardison was still deliriously happy and taking sole credit for the success of bringing Wilhelm Andrews to justice. "Without my fake IDs, guys, none of this would have been possible."

"Please," Eliot scoffed, "without my Oscar-worthy performance as a sadistic husband, you'd have nothing to brag about."

Sophie rolled her eyes at both of them. "I think you're both forgetting that state inspector Murphy was what scared Andrews into acting in the first place. Not to mention my numerous coaching tips."

That set off a fight, albeit good-natured, among the three of them about who should take the most credit.

Naturally, Parker felt she should, but she refrained from commenting, lest anyone remind her how she'd almost destroyed the whole thing by nearly killing their mark.

Nate had been more or less silent the entire evening, allowing them to celebrate their victory but not participating. She could guess what he was ruminating over.

At first they'd all worried that the end of Briarwood might not do any good for the women who still had to return to the families that sent them there in the first place. Though, as it turned out, many actually didn't know the side deals Andrews had set up for a select few families at Briarwood in order to earn extra money.

Delia and Eleanor had visited them the day before to thank them one last time. Delia had decided to separate from her husband and was going to live with her sister. With the public collapse of Briarwood and impending trial of Wilhelm Andrews, the publicity would ensure that those who didn't have safe families to return to would have other alternatives. Eleanor was one of many helping them find places to live. (_You five did this for us, for my sister, without even knowing us, _she'd told them,_ I think the least I can do is carry it on and try to help those who still need it)_.

Hardison had offered to pitch in and help if necessary, such as with the strategic emptying of bank accounts for those who still posed a threat to former patients of Briarwood.

Nate still worried, as she knew he would. "They'll be okay," she told him as she sat across from him in the living room.

"You're sure of that because...?" He asked.

"Because they have people looking out for them," she said simply, "like Eleanor." She shifted, unused to being the one who reassured someone else. "And us. And you."

He hummed in an entirely noncommittal manner. She looked over her shoulder – the other three were still arguing in the kitchen. Now or never, she thought. And hoped she wasn't about to make one of the most misguided decisions of her life.

"You know," she said, "you're probably the best psychiatrist I ever had. And you weren't even real."

"That says little about your other psychiatrists," he said lightly.

"I had a few good ones. The problem was that when you got a bad one, he would overshadow everything in recent memory."

She was afraid he might look on her with pity, but the only thing she saw in his face was the same solemnity she'd come to associate with him, in every situation, always. She was immensely grateful for it. For him.

She was taking an enormous risk here, but she had to because it had gotten to the point that she couldn't ignore this any longer and still be happy.

She tapped her fingers against her glass before setting it on the coffee table. "I'm sure you know, in TV shows and movies, it's a common occurrence to fall in love with one's psychiatrist. Thankfully as a teenager I never fell into that trap."

"That's a good thing," he smiled, "because I really don't think a relationship between a teenage girl and her psychiatrist would have a bright future."

"You're right, it would have been a spectacular disaster," she swallowed, eyes fixed on her glass of wine. "You know, there's one big difference between my time at Briarwood and the time with the other psychiatrists I've had," she said.

"What would that be?" He asked, leaning forward and assessing her in the same way he'd done at Briarwood. It didn't make her uncomfortable though, it just made her more…aware.

"I never fell in love with one of my psychiatrists. Before Briarwood, that is."

Nate was silent for a moment and she was afraid to look at him. "Parker, please don't tell me that you fell in love with Andrews."

She looked up at him sharply, and sighed with relief when she saw that he was only teasing her. "No, not him."

"Well then…" he waited a moment, thinking, "I think your record is safe, because the only other psychiatrist you had at Briarwood was not real. Therefore, you can still claim you never fell in love with one."

"You're right," she said, uncomfortably. "I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway because I'm sure…Dr. Matthews would not have fallen for one of his patients. Too much integrity for that."

She was giving him an out, because she was sure he needed it, and really she just wanted to get out of the conversation.

"Dr. Matthews didn't fall in love with one of his patients," Nate confirmed, and she felt her heart sink. What had she expected, though, really? He was trying to let her down easily, because that was the kind of man Nate was.

"I understand," she said softly, about to stand and join the others in the kitchen – not out of desire to celebrate, but merely out of a desire to escape from this humiliating situation as soon as possible.

Right as she picked up her glass to leave, Nate circled the coffee table to come sit next to her. "However…the man who was playing him might have fallen in love with a woman named Parker."

"Wh-what?" She let go of her glass a few inches over the coffee table, and was amazed when it only tipped, and didn't shatter.

"That'd be you," he confirmed. His eyes were fixed on her.

"Really?" She asked.

"Really," he confirmed as he leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back, tentatively reaching up to touch the sides of his face, and then, when he didn't pull away (as she half expected), running her hands through his hair. All the while she could barely comprehend what was happening, except that she kept reminding herself that it was Nate. It was _Nate_. And she'd never thought he would love her, not this way – not in a way she'd only realized she wanted in the past few weeks. Was it possible she'd wanted it for much longer, but never consciously realized it? Maybe.

"I have to ask you something," she said, as they broke apart, though they didn't move far from each other. She didn't want to ruin things, but this had been weighing on her since her confrontation with Andrews several days earlier. "When we were with Andrews and…you said all those things. How much of it did you mean and how much of it was to try to get me to lower the gun?"

"Parker," he smiled, pulling her closer to him on the couch (if that were possible, seeing as she was nearly on top of him already). "I meant everything."

"Everything?" She asked, and couldn't keep the skepticism out of her words (old habits died hard). "Because some of what you said, it was…it would mean a lot if…"

"Do I lie to you?" He asked, every ounce of mirth gone. In fact, he regarded her with a gravity she didn't know if she would ever, in the furthest reaches of her heart, feel she deserved.

"No," she admitted.

"That's your answer. I meant every word, Parker. I'm with you, even if it means going down for murder. Well, actually it'd be more like going on the run for murder together, since I had no plans of staying there to let the police arrest us."

"I'm sure Hardison would have loved assisting with that," Parker said.

He must have heard them from the kitchen. "Hey man, that entire 6 minutes I was coming up with emergency plans on how to get the five of us out of the country."

"Wait a minute," Parker sat up to look over at the three in the kitchen. "You would have come with us? You would _all _go on the run with me?"

"Of course," Eliot said, implying with those two words that she was crazy for thinking anything else.

"How could you think we _wouldn't_?" Sophie asked.

Parker shrugged as Hardison came over to sit on the arm of the couch next to her. "We love you, Parker."

"Yeah," Eliot agreed. "Though maybe not as much as Nate."

"You saw that, huh?" Parker asked, perilously close to self-conscious.

"We're not blind," Sophie laughed. "And I disagree with Eliot. I do love you as much as Nate."

Parker quickly looked at Nate, then back to Sophie. "Wow, I mean I'm flattered, but –"

"In a different way," Sophie clarified, sitting next to her so she could give her a hug. "I'm not hitting on you, Parker."

"Oh good," she sighed in relief. "I wouldn't want you two fighting over me." She nearly shrieked when Nate pulled her away from Sophie and back to his side.

"Out of curiosity, Hardison, what countries were on your short list?" Nate asked, wrapping his arms around Parker, and she had the feeling it would take a lot to get out of his hold – not that she was trying.

"Anything with no extradition treaties with the U.S., but also high levels of corruption. What would you all say to Russia?"

"That's where you'd pick?" Eliot complained. "The coldest damn place you can think of? Plus you know the FSB has been after me for seven years."

"What's the FSB?" Hardison asked, confused.

"The successor to the KGB – wait, why am I bothering to explain this? Brush up on your history, and find another place, I am not stepping foot back in that country," Eliot said firmly.

Hardison heaved a sigh and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket – Parker had no idea he'd had an _actual _list. They watched as he exaggeratedly crossed an item off it while glaring at Eliot. "Next on my list was Iran," he said.

"Seriously?" Sophie asked, thinking he was joking. When he only looked confused, she sighed. "Wonderful choice, Hardison. They love Americans."

"We'd have to blend in, luckily I am a master of disguise!" He looked from Sophie to Parker. "How do you two feel about burqas?"

"Get rid of it," Sophie ordered, as Hardison reluctantly scratched it from the list.

"You realize we're not actually fleeing the country, right?" Nate asked.

"It never hurts to have an emergency plan," Hardison said. And Nate really couldn't argue with that.

The conversation dissolved into an argument about which country would be the best to escape to, if the need ever arose – which amounted to Hardison getting crucified by Eliot, Sophie, and Nate for every country he suggested. Parker didn't contribute, content to merely listen; half the time her friends were as crazy as everyone else thought she was. But she wouldn't have them any other way. And it was a very warming thought to know they felt the same about her.

She fell asleep at some point, and when Nate woke her it must have been much later because everyone else was gone.

"I would have let you keep sleeping," he explained. "But my bed is much more comfortable than my couch."

"Right," she sat up a bit, rubbing her eyes, and looked around, taking in the quiet darkness of his apartment. "Nate, I…"

He waited patiently. What else had he ever done with her?

"I think…I think I want to talk about it," she told him quietly, not sure how he'd take it, not sure if he remembered his offer from weeks ago, or if he did, what he would think of her saying this now.

He didn't placate her, or humor her, or condescend to her. He didn't become uncomfortable or pretend not to know what she was talking about. He only said, without hesitation, that he'd like to hear about it.

She knew, in that moment, that every decision she'd made in the past two years had been right. Perhaps everything in her life – good and bad and unspeakable – had been worth it, because without even one moment of it she might not have ended up there, with him, at that moment in time.

As she sat next to Nate, feeling truly comfortable for the first time to talk about the painful experiences she'd had, she thought that the possibility of never knowing him, or any of them, was something she could never – would never – accept.

Because Nathan Ford and his team had become her entire life. She knew she would do everything possible to ensure they remained her life – forever, if she had her say.

(And she did. And they were.)

**XXXXXX**

The End!

To all who read this, I love you. And to all reviewers, I love you as well. It means _a lot_ to me.

To those who are not N/P fans – I am _truly _flattered you made it this far.

To those who are N/P fans, I am definitely not going anywhere. And trust me, there are more of you than you think – something I find amazing, to know I'm not alone out here (and which is a far cry from how I felt when I posted my first story). Thanks again.


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